


Love

by CaptainTulip



Category: House M.D.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19076020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTulip/pseuds/CaptainTulip
Summary: House and Wilson discuss love.





	Love

"Do you believe in love?"  
  
House ignores Wilson for a moment, taking an obnoxious slurp through the straw of his milkshake.   
  
"Huh?" he says stupidly, when Wilson gives him a pointed look.  
  
"Love," Wilson repeats, softly like it might cause mountains to move if spoken too loud.  
  
House screws up his face in thought. "By love you mean something lame, right?"  
  
"No." Wilson manages to look wounded and personally offended. "I mean...love."  
  
House takes another long suck from his drink and leans his head from side to side, letting Wilson think he is considering the matter very seriously. He lets his lips slide off the straw with a wet  _pop_ , and looks at Wilson with a frown. "You like something a lot, you love it. Me, I love television. I love my Vicodin. I love -"  
  
"Not  _that_  kind of love," Wilson says, looking frustrated. "I mean -"  
  
"There's more than one kind of love?" House asks, looking comically confused. He rolls to the side of the room on the office chair that he stole and peeks through the blinds.  
  
"Well, obviously," Wilson says, not sure how to inflect his voice. "There's the love you have for your family -"  
  
House gives a theatrical shudder, but Wilson ignores him.  
  
"- and there's the love you have for material things, like," Wilson gives him wry look, "your drugs..."  
  
" _Prescription drugs_ , for the kiddies listening," House mutters, and darts his eyes down the hall.  
  
"- and then there's... _love_  love." Wilson gives a significant pause, and House can feel him staring at the back of his head expectantly. He sighs and swings around in his chair.  
  
"Why are we having this conversation?" House asks, eyeing Wilson up and down. "Cuddy's bound to come bursting in at any moment, and I'm not  _just_  talking about her breasts, although they're certain to want to make an appearance -"  
  
"House," Wilson warns, like he might to an over-excited puppy. "Just...answer the question."  
  
"It's a stupid question." House picks up his cane and begins to twirl it around his fingers   
  
"I didn't  _ask_  whether or not it was a stupid question, I just asked if -"  
  
"I told you that I do."  
  
"You do? Seriously?"  
  
House catches the cane in his hand. "Sure. Saying love is a hell of a lot easier than saying 'am really rather fond of'. Especially if you wanna make a quick escape. I'm sure someone could calculate how many seconds you save by saying 'love'-"  
  
"Is that what you think?"  
  
House makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and peers through the blinds again. "Is there a point to this?"  
  
Wilson shrugs and darts a hand up to pat the back of his hair. "Well, no," he murmurs. There is a long pause, and Wilson sucks in a few 'about to talk' breaths.   
  
House turns around to stare at him. "Are you being annoying on purpose, or does it come naturally to you?" House asks, and placing his empty milkshake on the floor, he slips a hand into his pocket to pull out his Vicodin.  
  
"You expect me to believe you’ve never been in love before?” Wilson asks. “Come on, House, I’ve been here with you all through your Stacy times-”   
  
House hisses an annoyed sigh through his teeth. "You know when parents are first explaining to their children where babies come from," he begins, leaning his head back slightly, "and they begin with, 'When a Mommy and a Daddy love each other  _very much_ '-"  
  
"Yeah," Wilson says, hesitantly.  
  
"What is it, exactly, that happens when a Mommy and a Daddy love each other very much?"  
  
Wilson watches House, reluctantly.  
  
"Daddy sticks his dick into Mommy, goes nuts for a minute and then probably rolls over and falls asleep. Mommy feels used and upset and slips off to the bathroom to cry and feel incomplete, and nine months later there's more bills to pay and more groceries to buy and a big, unneeded lump of flesh stinking up the spare room."  
  
House pops another Vicodin in his mouth, for effect. Wilson stares at him a moment, his mouth hanging open.  
  
"Wow," Wilson says slowly, “I’m definitely developing a greater respect for your past girlfriends.”  
  
House glares. “I’m not about to deny that people experience feelings of overwhelming lust and need when confronted with certain other people – just take a look at Cuddy’s buttons burst when she’s around me.” Wilson rolls his eyes. “But I’m sick of love being talked about like it’s on the same level as spiritual enlightenment and monster trucks.”  
  
Wilson stares at him, frowning. He opens his mouth and says, "So you don't..."  
  
House looks at him expectantly, but Wilson looks reluctant to continue. "What is this, high school sex ed class?"  
  
"No, I don't know, I just -" Wilson breaks off with an annoyed sigh. “So you think that love is all about wanting to get into someone’s pants?”  
  
“Of course not,” House replies. “Wanting to get into someone’s pants is  _lust._ ” He smirks as Wilson starts to smile. “Now,  _getting_  into someone’s pants and realising that you want to stay there… _that’s_  love.”  
  
Wilson shakes his head. “You’re such a-”  
  
“Man?” House supplies, then shrugs. "Not that any of this applies to me anymore. I mean, Stacy was a nice booty call-"  
  
"I'll tell her you said that-"  
  
“-but I've been told flirting with me is like flirting with a crocodile."  
  
"Pointless?"  
  
"Painful."  
  
Wilson pauses. "Oh," he says.  
  
House watches Wilson closely. "You don't believe me?"  
  
Wilson shrugs.   
  
"Would  _you_  flirt with me?" House quips, looking satisfied.  
  
"Maybe," Wilson replies.  
  
House's mouth falls open. "Well,  _this_  is an interesting development," he mutters.  
  
"Well," Wilson says, trying to sound reasonable. "Isn't what we do every day just...flirting?"  
  
House stares at Wilson. Wilson shifts. "Try,  _no_ ," House replies, and watches Wilson flounder.  
  
"Not - I mean, of course we're - but - isn't flirting just -" Wilson's voice has gone up a little higher, as if Debbie from Accounting has just suggested she might sit in his lap   
  
House watches Wilson critically, not interested in throwing him a bone.  
  
"I mean that, when we spend time together, our banter is playful and laced with sexual innuendo; how is this different from -"  
  
"Because we're not thinking about  _doing_  each other," House points out loudly, and Wilson blushes.  
  
"Well, no," he says, quietly, "but how can you tell the difference?"  
  
House shakes his head. "You can't tell whether you want to do someone or not? What are you, some crazed nympho?"  
  
"No," Wilson says, looking frustrated, "is it only flirting if  _you're_  thinking about doing the other person? What about if they're not thinking of doing you?"  
  
"There's no way that you can know what the other person is thinking, so you're only flirting if  _you_  wanna do  _them_ ," House says, and rubs his eyes furiously. "How did we get on to this?" he asks, but Wilson ignores him.  
  
"But what if -" He seems determined to get to something. "What if  _you_  don't think you're flirting, but the other person does?"  
  
"Well, they're a stupid sucker then, aren't they?"  
  
Wilson sighs a deep sigh, and nods slowly. "Yeah," he agrees softly.  
  
House screws up his face. "How did we go from love to flirting?"  
  
"Hey, you were the one who brought up the flirting," Wilson points out, holding up his hands.  
  
" _You_  were the one who started talking about," House screws up his face, “ _love_."  
  
"See, now," Wilson says with a frown, "why do you - talk about it like that? It's not wholly bad."  
  
"Says the man with three failed marriages under his belt," says House.  
  
"Yeah, so I know that despite everything, love is worth it.”  
  
House squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his thigh harshly. "There's some point that you're trying to get me to come to," he says in a pained tone of voice, "and I'm  _obviously_  not going to get there, and you  _clearly_  have no idea what you're talking about yourself, so why don't we cut the crap and try and get in some quality television time before -"  
  
The door slams open, and House's mouth snaps closed.  
  
"Gentlemen," Cuddy says, in a triumphant tone of voice.  
  
"Morning, Cuddy," Wilson says with a smile, and Cuddy beams back at him.  
  
House rolls his eyes.  
  
"House," Cuddy says, turning her attention to House, and Wilson smirks behind Cuddy's back. "You have  _work_  to do. Ever heard of work? You know, that thing where you come along and do things for people higher up than you, and then they give you money-"  
  
"Don't try to be cute," House says, picking himself up off the chair with his arm weighing heavily on his cane. "I like the butch in the streets, femme in the sheets thing, anyway."   
  
Wilson makes an odd snuffle behind his hand, which is readily identified as a snort by House, who smirks, and Cuddy, who scowls.  
  
"Like Wilson, you mean?" she says, raising an eyebrow at Wilson, and Wilson's mouth falls open.  
  
"Oh,  _burn_ ," House says gleefully.  
  
Wilson's cheeks flush. "I think something else was implied that may have been designed to insult  _you_  too, House," Wilson says dryly, still glaring at Cuddy, and House stares at him.  
  
"What d'you mean, Jimmy? Liking you isn't a bad thing," House says with a smirk, flicking his eyes towards Cuddy. "If I couldn't stare at that cute little butt every day I come to work," House says, peeking behind Wilson, "I don't know what I'd do." He grins and limps out of the room.  
  
Wilson's jaw stays locked in position, and the red on his cheeks darkens.  
  
"Oh  _ho_ ," Cuddy says, grinning. "You're getting some tonight."  
  
Wilson splutters. "Excuse me?"  
  
Cuddy snorts. "Well, he obviously -" She falters as she catches the look on Wilson's face. "You -" She stops. "But he said..."  
  
" _What_?"  
  
"You're not...?"  
  
Wilson gestures with his hands. "Not what?"  
  
Cuddy stares at him a moment, before a lipstick slicked grin spreads across her face. "He just talked about your butt, Wilson, I  _think_  the game is over."  
  
Wilson's eyes widen. "What game?" he demands.  
  
"Oh, come on."  
  
" _What game_?"  
  
Cuddy arches an eyebrow at him, and with a quirk of her lips, turns on her heel and struts out the door, leaving Wilson to gape at her retreating figure.


End file.
